2718
BS
Friday, July 23, 2004
Sunday, July 25, 2004

Disc: Lord of the Rings and all its characters, places, plot, etc. belong to other people. Too many to list them all. No infringement intended. Not claiming it as my own . . . not that it really matters. -sigh-
Warn: lol – sex! (But nothing even remotely graphic). AU-ness, of course.
Note: Hah ha! Oh ho oho ho. Umm . . . hahaha. It's just one of those fics. Hahaha.
By far, the hardest chapter to write. Nearly killed me, it did.

Ephemeral

chapter nine

Estel sat in the dimly lit room, waiting for the Queen to join him. The road had been long to Rohan. He had been drugged most of the way, too tense to ride a horse. Instead, Elladan had sat behind him and held him upright as they traveled. It was a blur to him, just an unpleasant dream of being bounced and jostled on horseback. He did not remember much of their arrival, either. His father had been greeted at the palace walls by several guards. He had followed in a straight line with his brothers behind him to the throne room. There, they had met Thengel. And his wife. He could remember little of her through his drugged haze. She was tall and dark-haired. She stood proudly next to her king and welcomed them with frigidity.

Introductions had been made, and he had been gawked at by the assembly. The room had been nearly-empty -- only a few of Rohan's people in attendance. Supper had been light, a mockery of a family meal. There had been a small blond boy at the table, as well as a girl older by only a few years. They had stared at the Elves -- and Estel, as well -- throughout the dinner. Luckily, no one spoke to him. He had stared at his food in silence, too sick to eat. Dinner had passed by with polite civilities until he was brought to a room and slept that night and most of the next morning. The next day he had been feeling more like himself and wandered through the palace of Edoras -- the Golden Hall. He had been very disappointed with the lack of books.

He'd eaten a light lunch with his brothers, who were not enjoying their time there. The blond boy had been watching them from behind the door, and Estel had almost walked into him. He had tried to remember the boy's name -- Theoden, he thought it was -- while the blond boy had stood in front of him with an upturned face. He couldn't have been older than six years. The boy had spoken in Sindarin, and had asked Estel if he were really deaf. Estel had not answered him. After that, his brothers had wandered away, and he had retreated to his assigned room.

There were horses and pictures of horses everywhere. They made him nervous. He pulled heavy drapes across his window and sulked in the dark by candlelight until meals were called. He did not see Morwen for several days. On his fifth day in Rohan, Elrond had brought him a drink. It was pink, chalky, and smelled like an emetic. He had choked it down, and afterwards Elrond revealed that it was a fertility concoction. "To help with a male heir," he had said. The drink had been sent to him every night after supper until he was to do something to Morwen.

In truth, Estel wasn't sure what he was to be doing. He had read books -- which had been sketchy and full of euphemisms -- to little avail. Desperate, he had asked his brothers. They had stammered that Elves did not speak so openly of creating children. An Elf only married once, and never 'practiced' or 'learned' on anyone. Finally, he had turned to his father. Elrond broke down the mechanics of the act, but did not give many details. "Morwen is experienced. You will not have problems," he had said. The words had left Estel with a tight throat and heavy heart. Still, he did not know how personal the meeting would be. Was he to romance her? Or were they just to get it over with?

On the tenth day in Rohan, he had learned more of the barter. Rohan would supply Morwen, who was of high Númenórean descent, to bear an heir for Estel. In return, Elrond would perform some service of healing. What else was in the bargain, he was not sure. Everyone had been strangely tightlipped on the matter. He had been told this, though, by Thengel in a private meeting. He had warned Estel against a variety of misdeeds said so quickly and so surlily that he could not read all of them. He could sense that although Thengel had agreed to the arrangement, he was not pleased with it. From what little he had seen of his wife, he could assume that she was even less so. She avoided him whenever possible, and he had only seen her for the evening meals.

After seventeen days, he had been told that the event was to happen in the next week. Elrond had been monitoring Morwen, waiting for the best time. This had increased Estel's anxiety. He paced the floors and hid in his room as often as he could. "This is repugnant," he had told his brothers when they came to sit with him. "I am being forced to -- " he could not give it a name. His head hurt every time he thought of it.

"No one is forcing you, Estel," Elrohir had said. His brother had given him a forced smile. "Father did give you a choice, did he not?"

"It is for the good of mankind," Elladan had said before Estel could answer.

"I do not want a child." It distressed him to think that he would bring a child into the world. He knew that he would never hear the baby cry. He would never hold it -- could not bear to do so knowing that the child would leave him after all too soon a time and ride to danger. He knew that the life was long for the people of his kind. He also knew that his child -- a son, most likely -- would probably be cut down in his youth. Elrond had told him that the baby was to be raised in Rivendell, and Estel had not been pleased. He felt terrible enough with only the knowledge that he spawned an heir with no love involved -- he did not love its mother, barely even knew her. He was not sure if he could bear to be in the child's life, watching it grow and then leave. He could not be its father -- could not teach it the things fathers taught sons. He would not be the one to teach the baby to speak. He would not hear its first words or be able to listen to its puerile chatter.

He looked up as the door opened and the queen entered. He regarded her with fixed eyes. She was taller, by far, than her husband or any of the men he had seen in this country. She was dark-haired and fair-skinned. A gown of a mauve silk hung from her shoulders and was pinned at the bust with a golden horse head brooch. She was barefoot, her white feet contrasting with the stone floors beneath them. She wore no jewelry nor any adornment to mark her position as Thengel's wife. She stood in the doorway, watching him and assessing him. The candlelight flickered on the walls and across their faces. Estel rose immediately and bowed low in front of her. She did not move. He stepped backward and turned to the low table that had been set in the room. He pulled back a small chair and held his hand against it. Finally, Morwen stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. She walked slowly to the table and sat in the offered chair. Estel bowed again and sat opposite of her. Earlier in the day, Elrond had told him how to behave for their private supper and to treat the lady accordingly.

Hands shaking, Estel poured the wine. He filled her glass partially, then his own. He uncovered a plate and folded his hands in his lap. She watched him with a raised eyebrow and then sipped her wine. He raised his own goblet to his lips and let the flavor hit his tongue. The bold red wine tingled in his mouth and made his head swim. He set the goblet aside and cut a piece of the venison on his plate. He nibbled at the meat and chewed it well before swallowing. He did not much feel like eating. He was sure that the meal was delectable, but he could taste little of it in his nervous state. To his surprise, he saw Morwen ate little. She was looking at him questioningly as she chewed her meat. With eye contact finally made, she swallowed and said, "I have heard you speak with your Elven family throughout your time here. I was in doubt that you were truly disabled." She sipped from her wine.

"Milady . . . ?" he asked. Why would he lie about such an unfortunate, crippling condition?

"Lord Elrond has informed me that you are able to see what is spoken, provided you look at me." She set her fork on her plate. "This is true?"

"Yes, milady." Estel picked up his wine glass and drank a large gulp.

They sat in silence for long minutes, watching each other in the candlelight. At length she said, "You are not what I had imagined when my husband came to me with the proposal of Lord Elrond." She poured wine into her glass. "How old are you, Aragorn?"

He felt an involuntary flinch at the title, then said, "I am twenty-three, milady." She seemed surprised, and studied him again. He did not ask for her age -- it would be too ill-mannered. He could look at her and tell that she was older than he, although her face was fair and youthful. Estel was not sure what would be appropriate conversation with this woman. He did not want to offend her. "Have you lived here long, your majesty?" he asked.

She smiled pleasantly. "Nay, I have not. I lived in Lossarnach with my father after leaving Belfalas by the coast. I married Thengel in Gondor, and we only moved here when the King died." She then said, "Have you ever been to Gondor?"

Estel felt himself blushing. How shameful it was for the heir of a kingdom never to set foot in his own country. "No, I have not," he said at last with his head bowed. A tense silence followed. He broke it at last with an indirect gaze at the brooch on her chest. "Rohan is a lovely place." He glanced into her gray eyes to find amusement.

"It is," she said. "The people here have a love for horses that seems almost . . ." she searched for a word. "Supernatural." She drank from her glass. "It is a connection that you seem to be averse to."

He didn't reply until it became clear she was expecting some type of response. "I do not like horses," he said at last.

An elegantly arched eyebrow rose speculatively. "Why?"

Estel debated ignoring her. The question had been rude, and it was not polite to badger a political guest. However, he wanted the night to go as smoothly as possible. "When I was a child," he said. "I was hurt by a horse. She stepped on me."

Morwen pondered this. "You were not too terribly hurt from this. Have you never liked them since?"

Estel shook his head. "I never had a chance. I . . . nearly died of it, and I've never heard since then." His chest was tight and there was a lump in his throat as he spoke. He did not like this subject. He did not like telling people of his accident. In Rivendell, everyone knew of his deafness and the cause. No one mentioned it, and he was able to think of happier times without being reminded.

Morwen looked suddenly different, Estel realized. Where before, she had been cold, yet polite, she was now looking at him with concern. Her lips were pressed into a thin line and her hair fell over her shoulders and arms in waves of sable. The mauve gown was bunched at her sleeves, and the lace at the sleeves was crinkled. She seemed suddenly more real. He felt as though the mannequin that had been sitting in front of him had sprung to life. She was silent, and said no more of the subject.

The candle had nearly burned to the candlestick when she spoke again. "I had imagined someone older and more . . . libidinous." She smiled slightly. "You are still a child." She crossed her arms in front of her. "Do you even know what you are to be doing?"

"I have basic instructions." His face was red with embarrassment.

She laughed merrily, then stood. Estel stumbled to stand and pushed his chair as well as her own under the table. He turned to look at her and saw that she had removed the brooch from her gown. The frill at the collar was scrunched. With Estel watching, she unlaced her sash -- he hadn't even realized that she had been wearing one, for it was only a shade darker than the gown -- and it fell into her hand. She set it on the back of her chair. The gown hung loosely from her shoulders. She started to slip it off, then seemed to change her mind. She walked to Estel and took his hand as she led him to the bed. Standing in front of it, she unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his shirt. She slid it from his broad shoulders and folded it over her arm. She motioned for him to remove his boots while she set his clothing on the chair. When she turned again, he saw that she was frowning. Striding back to the bed, she hooked her fingers over each side of the waist of his trousers and pulled down. He felt his whole body blush crimson and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. She tugged at the fabric, and he stepped out of each leg. Fully nude before her, he felt his cheeks burning as she looked him over.

Her hand fluttered at the collar of her dress and she slipped it over her shoulders. It landed on the floor and she stepped out of the fabric. She knelt and retrieved the garment, then took it to the chair. Estel looked her over, admiring the shine of her tresses in the candlelight. Her skin was milky-white all over, and her limbs were very fair. He kept his eyes focused on her shoulder as she turned and walked to the table. He saw her hand reach for the candle snuffer, then the light flickered out.

In the darkness, he stood by the bed. He couldn't see well. There was only the torchlight coming in under the door. After a few seconds, he felt a touch against his arm. Her fingers were warm and he felt something cold thrust into his hand. He wondered what it was, but could not ask. In the darkness, he could not see lip movements. The aroma of the wine suddenly struck his nose, and he drained the glass in one swallow. In the dark, he was deaf and blind with a stranger. He had seldom felt more defenseless. The goblet fell from his hand, but he did not know where it went. He felt the warm touch against his shoulder and then a firm pressure.

He sat down on the bed and felt Morwen sit on top of him. She pressed her warm body against his own, and then leaned forward. He felt the pillow hit his neck, and then Morwen lying more fully on him. She ran her hands over his arms, then across his shoulders. He suddenly felt something warm and wet against his mouth, and he realized that she was kissing him. He returned it as best he could, then the sensation was gone. He felt more touches against his abdomen, then a hand against his. She brought his hand forward and held it to her chest. He could feel the smooth skin of her chest under his palm. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. She kissed his forehead, then rubbed her hands lower and lower on his body while he did the same to her. He pulled her closer as she guided him through the night. He was grateful that she was so understanding.

------

Now, I will defend my decision. This is the last we see of Morwen, who is a real character, who really is of Númenórean descent. I picked her for that reason, and the added trauma of the whole Rohan thing. It's a smart move to have neighboring kingdoms ruled by half-brothers (Theoden on one side and Aragorn's son on the other.) Or, at least it could be. I don't know if Elves would really care what a human boy or married woman did. They don't seem to be the type to get upset if women do the cooking (something female Elves do not do, except for bread.) That may not seem like a good comparison, but laws and customs of the Eldar are laws and customs of the Eldar.

There's one chapter and the epilogue left, so . . .

next update --- Monday, November 15, 2004.